Author's Corner

I would like to say that Harry Potter does not belong to me. There would be OCs. That's because that is the center theme. The Setting would be the Goblet of Fire. Scenes that is in the books or movies, as you know, doesn't belong to me. I hope so, but it doesn't.

If anyone can tell me, ANYONE, things that I've made a mistake of, please do so.

I've gotten the idea of Symposium from HecateA's Mark of Athena. It's the best thing there is, for me anyway. It is a must read. You'll love it, that is a definite

Chapter I

Aria

Aria Whitlock knows that something was wrong with herself. For one thing, she always has this feeling of emptiness. Even though she's always surrounded by her friends, she feels empty. Sometimes she wonders why on earth she feels such longing. For what exactly, she didn't know.

Aria was a proud Gryffindor. She may not be the Head girl – that was the Ravenclaw girl – but she was a Prefect, and she was a stickler for rules. Well, half of the time anyway. She often act on impulse, a bit stubborn, and hot headed on occasion, but that's what makes a Gryffindor, a Gryffindor. (That's what the ex-Head Girl for the year 1990-1991 had said)

Then, her last year of Hogwarts came and the dreams entered.

They weren't like any other dreams. They didn't feel like dreams. They were more of… visions. Or memories. They were faint, a blur. And she couldn't understand it. And that was the thing. Aria prided herself for her title as the Brightest Witch in her year. So, the fact that she doesn't even have a single clue about it stings her ego.

It was the 31st of October in the year 1994, the night she first had the most vivid dream. She was tired from all the partying. Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, was picked to be one of the champions for the Tri-Wizard tournament. It wasn't much of a Tri tournament now. See, Harry Potter was the second Champion for Hogwarts, the third school. The first being Cedric Diggory, the pretty boy of the Puffs, and (as said by some fellow prefect in the House of Puffs) the real Hogwarts Champion.

Aria didn't really care as to who the Hogwarts Champion is. She had something bigger to worry about. Her unending curiosity about her dreams for example. And when she collapsed on her bed after finally managing to perform a Houdini worthy escape from her year mates, she dreamt.

Her dream was unlike the previous ones. This one was more vivid. She could see the faces. She was like a phantom, unable to be seen, but able to see. And so, she watched the scene unfold.

There was a girl, around her early twenties, perhaps even less. She was in rags. Her dark hair was cut off, and her left shoulder blade was bleeding. Her skin was pale white, a lot like an Albino. It was obvious she wasn't allowed sunlight. She was in a prison. Her hands were tied together while her right leg was chained. Her eyes were sunken, her body had a lot of scars and she was a bit thin, probably from not being able to eat anything worth giving her the nutrition her body needed.

"Witch," she turned to face the person behind the bars of the girl's cage. He was tall, lean, and possibly handsome, but the darkness hid his face. He was wearing an armor, possibly from the Arthurian era. But that was insanity. He had a sword on his side, but it was sheathed, so it was safe to assume that he won't kill the girl. Yet.

"Witch," he called again, rattling the bars. "I know that you are awake. Look at me." It wasn't as how he spoke it. Actually, he said it like one of Shakespeare's books. Luckily, Aria loved to read it ever since she was a child, making it easy for her to translate the words.

The girl looked up, a smirk on her face. "Ah, if it isn't the chief knight," she said mockingly. "What's got into your head that you're visiting a traitorous slag like me?"

Aria coughed at that. She was by no means prude, but she'd never heard of anyone calling themselves such names willingly. Well, it may also be because of how it was prudish for females back in the olden days. She deduced that the dream was around the Arthurian Era, especially with the armor and the speech.

The knight scowled. "You've got no clue on how dangerous the tide you've sailed is, don't you?"

The girl laughed. "As a matter of fact, dear knight," she flashed him a small grin, "I do."

"You've got guts, Witch." He grunted. "I'll give you that. You're stuck in a prison cell and you're execution is probably being talked about by the council and you can still smile. What a weird witch you are."

"I thought we've established that when I admitted I was a witch." She said, flexing her fingers.

"And what a farfetched story it was." The knight said. "What did you say again? Your Grandmother was the Queen of the Witches, the Goddess of Magic?" he was mocking her.

"'is'" she corrected.

"What?"

"My Grandmother is the 'Queen of the Witches, the Goddess of Magic'." She said, leaning back. "She is immortal."

"And that is truly believable." He laughed.

The girl shrugged, though she winced a little. "Believe what you want, dear knight. But tell your mighty king this," she cocked her head to the side, "His actions will be his downfall."

"I do hope you weren't threatening our king." The knight drew his sword. "You are already in a fickle situation, Witch."

She laughed. "Think of it as you may." Then, her smile faded. "It seems like our chat will be cut short, dear Knight." Then, she swayed a little and fainted.

The knight blinked, caught a little off guard. A second passed and footsteps were heard. The knight withdrew his sword and looked at the only exit of the dungeons. A guard came in and when he saw the knight, he straightened his posture and saluted. The knight merely nodded his assent before straightening himself and leaving.

When the knight had left, black enveloped Aria's vision.

She woke up.

Aria Whitlock was proud of her heritage. She was a half-blood. Her mother was a witch, a Mediwitch to be precise, while her father was a muggle. He worked as a Literature professor in a local high school. She loved being a witch. She was excited when her Hogwarts letter came. But seeing her dream brought shivers to her spine. She didn't know who they were but it was exact what timeline it was. It was the time when Witches were considered an abomination and killed. She wasn't sure who the girl was, but if she was sorted into Hogwarts, it was a definite Gryffindor. She had, after all, given herself up, admitted to the people who would surely execute her, her heritage.

The question was, who was she?